


Ice Hearts and Stone Walls

by Mango_Lioncat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Collars, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Some dehumanizing language, Will probably be NSFW, but they're also not...human... so... I dunno how you want to take that, guys its okay they'll fall in love don't worry about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mango_Lioncat/pseuds/Mango_Lioncat
Summary: In the thick of war between the Dragons and the Humans, King of the Beasts Gavin Reed must use everything he has in his power to escape after he's kidnapped by a rival kingdom. But there's only one person that stands in his way.The feared Dragon King, cold, strong, impenetrable as walls of solid ice.Nines.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40
Collections: Reed900 Reverse Big Bang





	Ice Hearts and Stone Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omochi/gifts).



> Welcome! PLEASE, before you even start reading- go check out the artwork my partner Omochi made that inspired this fic! here

The bound man does not come quietly into the throne room of the Dragon King.

He screams and snarls muffled curses at the ones wrestling him into the room. The King’s right-hand men- North and Markus- force him down the long distance between the double doors and the throne, the wide panels of wood and steel closing with a commanding bang behind them.

“We got one,” North snarls to her liege, red-hot flames ghosting from her breath as she tries to keep the struggling man from making an escape. “We went after one, but he Shifted and ran off. This one was foolish enough to stay and try to fight.”

Laughter fills the throne room, amused and condescending. The King who sits across his throne of silver watches the Beast dragged in.

The man is gagged, keeping him from saying anything. He’s covered in dirt and burns and scratches from his fight with the Dragons, and even though he’s beaten, the captured Beast refuses to give in. He can’t form words, but he snarls from the gag keeping his lips back, the sounds from his throat low. The King cannot understand what the Beast is saying, but there’s surely a string of curses in the intent behind it, if those eyes are anything to go by.

Over the gag stretched across his mouth, sharp canine teeth gleam in the sunlight.

The Beast even manages to duck, using his full weight to break the hold North and Markus have on him, but he gets no more than one step away when Markus stops him with an earth-shattering punch to his jaw that causes the very earth underfoot to tremble. North immediately tackles the Beast, forcing him onto the ground and keeping him still. “You will be _silent_ and _compliant_ before the King of Dragons!” she hisses, smoke and char rising from her breath as she pins down the struggling Beast beneath her.

The Beast only growls in answer, even with the burns from North’s fiery breath singing what appears to be canine-like ears. Gray-brown and triangular, they pin to the back of the man’s head, every bit a cornered animal as he bites down onto the strip of cloth keeping his mouth in a permanent snarl.

A few Dragons along the edge seem to think about coming forward to help, but Markus and North manage to wrastle the Beast forward, and then force him on his knees before the King. But even then, he doesn’t stop wriggling, trying to escape, refusing against all odds to comply and to _stop fighting_ -

“Enough-” the Dragon King booms from his throne, and a hushed quiet falls over every Dragon in the hall. They all lower their eyes, and look away, submitting to his authority.

The captured Beast flinches at the sound, but does not follow the action preceded by the Dragons around him. Instead, he turns bold and accusatory eyes at the King, unwavering. He glowers, eyes dark. Unbreaking.

The cold monarch looks down at him, one leg crossed lightly over the other, and he stands nimbly to his feet, his cloak of navy falling to the floor, a stark contrast to the white of his shirt underneath. His horn, a single point standing proudly at the forefront of his head, glowing a bright blue, catches the light as he stands at his full height.

At his right temple. A circle of that same blue.

It’s the one time the captive Beast is quiet and still, but if looks could kill, the Dragon King would surely be dead where he stands.

The Dragon makes his way slowly down the steps of his throne, silent. Markus and North bow their heads and take a step back. Reverent, and obedient. 

The Beast kneeling on the floor doesn’t even bother glancing at the pair of Dragons at his flank; he only has eyes for the one approaching him from straight ahead. His lips curl up as much as they can beyond the gag, and he growls from deep in his chest. A warning for the approaching monarch to back off.

The Dragon King doesn’t bother, and merely approaches, cool and seemingly distanced from the situation. “Interesting,” he hums, studying the Beast. A tail, long-furred, several hand spans in length, curls close to the man’s knees, lashing back and forth, bristling.

“At first I presumed he was some kind of dog, or maybe a cat, but I see here we have something far more significant than a mere stray.” He walks around the kneeling Beast in a slow circle, furrowing his brows thoughtfully, while the growling Beast watches him intently at every turn.

Just then, the King brings his hand down, and grabs the kneeling man’s chin in his jaw, tilting it so they can meet eye-to-eye. For a moment, the Beast’s eyes flash a primal yellow, before turning back to their dark and murky hazel.

“A wolf,” the Dragon murmurs, and watches in satisfaction as the lupine’s eyes narrow, and summons up another growl from deep in his throat. The King only smirks, amused. “And a fierce one at that.. Strong. Determined.” He grunts low in his throat, and tilts his head. “Fellow dragons.. We appear to be in the presence of the King of Beasts…Sir Gavin of Reed.” He bows his head, chin pointed down. “Though I presume.. Not for very long..”

Stunned gasps and murmurs from the Dragons all around the court passes through those gathered like a shimmering wave. A few draw back, while others growl and snarl at the side.

But from the kneeling King, all the Dragon King sees is rage in those dark and seething eyes. 

Nines smirks, and cannot help but make one more jab.

“Welcome to the Court of Dragons.. Your Majesty.”

(--)

Gavin glares daggers at the man standing before him, the King of Dragons. He tries to bite down on the gag, tries to speak, but it’s muffled and incomprehensible- so he settles for a low and threatening growl that rips through his chest.

“Not very well trained, I see.” The King muses. “But we’ll train you, yet, teach you when to bear those fangs, certainly not in the presence of your new king.”

_King_ . Like fucking _hell_ -

Gavin tries to lunge forward, spit flying from his mouth, soaking the gag, but the person holding his hands behind his back holds him down.

The Ice Dragon barely even gives him a second glance, and simply turns his back, starting toward his throne of shining silver, shimmering metal that’s surely cold as ice.

“Clearly, he cannot behave right now,” the Dragon King says, speaking with clear intent in his voice. He folds his hands back to his person, held neatly and casually behind him. “Take him to the dungeon, give him some time to cool off. Make sure there isn’t anything hidden on him he can use as a weapon.” The King smirks at the kneeling one; Gavin breathes harshly through his nose, eyes flashing again. “Who knows, perhaps we’ll be able to tame this wolf.” And like he really _is_ nothing more than a testy animal, the Dragon King simply turns, and walks away. “We’ll house-train you, yet, my pet.”

Unbridled rage doubles in Gavin, and rears its’ head, bares its’ teeth. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill _phckin_ all of you for this!” Gavin snarls, though none of what he roars translates past the gag tightly-pushed into his mouth under his fangs. He doesn’t let up the fight the entire way down to the dungeon, a far cry from the rest of the extravagantly decorated and furnished castle.

“You’re a damn fiesty one,” one of the dragons grits out, the male, dark skinned with hair shaved from his head. Mismatched blue and green eyes stare him down, perceptible to Gavin only because of his wolf eyes that adjust to the damp dark. The Beast King’s nostrils flare, scenting the moss, the mildew and rot.His bare feet and knees scrape the ground as he tries to get away, relentless in his attempt to break free even with two dragons easily able to overpower him.

He can’t help but try. He’s never been the type to give up easily. And he sure as hell won’t start now.

“Forget being feisty,” the other dragon says, hair long and done in a braid over one shoulder. “Let’s just get him chained up so we can leave this place.” She tosses her hair so a few strands go flying about her head, and with a careful, intentional breath, a billow of flame spews from her mouth.

Gavin startles back, frown hardening as the red-haired dragon snickers, and looks down at the humiliated king condescendingly, smirking and smug.

Show off.

Gavin bites out another snarl, but he’s tugged down along the way, anyway, the dripping hall now lit from the torches on the walls, granting at least _some_ light in such an awful place.

“You’re making this worse for yourself,” the male dragon says.sternly. Two horns curved back along his head catch the yellow-orange and dancing light of the flames, the material hard and ribbed closely together. “Just do as we say, so we don’t have to treat you so roughly.”

The female dragon scoffs. “You’re too soft, Markus.”

Gavin tries to remind himself to focus on names, to remember the ones who’ve wronged him, who captured him and chose to keep him tucked away like this- no better than a day-old piece of bread. He’ll turn to rot in here, or just die, if he’s lucky- because there’s no way the Ice Dragon King is going to let him just simply walk away from a capture like this, fellow King or not.

The two dragons currently keeping hold of his wrist tug him into a cell, and while the strong Dragon -Markus- holds Gavin down to keep him from wriggling away, North deftly fastens manacles to the man’s wrists. The metal is cold and tight around his joints, and there’s a slight burn as they secure into place.Not badly enough to do any damage, just to ensure he can’t shift.

“You can feel it?” the red-haired Dragon asks, her hands warm, borderline hot as they secure his chains. “Made with silver.Not pure, but with enough to keep you from shifting.”

Gavin’s nostrils flare. He’d be a fool to transform now like this, anyway. With his arms kept behind his back, he’d pop a shoulder joint if he were to attempt, now. He’s not that big of an idiot.

He settles for snarling at them again, a bit of spittle even managing to drip out from his mouth, every bit the feral beast he’s presumed to be. 

“Stop provoking him, North,” Markus says, not giving Gavin another second glance as he walks back to the entrance of the cell, ensuring the Beast King is secured.

The door slams closed with a thunderous echo from far, far down the hall. The sound of steps retreat, until there is nothing.

And then, Gavin is alone.

He tries and tests the strength of the chains holding him, tugs, snarling behind his gag and pulling hard on them. But of course it’s futile; the chains are probably secured to the stone walls with magic, or melted to it from dragons’ fire.

Time passes, but he has no knowledge of how much. He drifts in and out of sleep, despite his best efforts to stay up, stay alert and focused. He passes the time by wiggling and trying to escape, or counting the stone tablets carved into the walls of his little prison. From what he can hear, there isn’t anyone else in the dungeon. At least.. No one nearby that wants to talk. Or offer Gavin any sort of sage advice.

No. Right here, Gavin is truly on his own.

His muscles are sore, his body aching. Water drips down from somewhere, and in the flickering darkness, rats scuttle about in search of food. A couple try to nibble on his toes, but Gavin flings them off. If he could Shift, he could catch and at least eat them, but that’s not a possibility now when he’s stuck in his human form.

However many hours go by. To Gavin, it could be days, or mere minutes, but the flickering moments of time slow to a stop as soon as he hears the dungeon door opening, a distant and echoing grind against the rough stones. People who come to bring him food.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, worn weak and weary from the conditions he’s kept in. At first he tries to fight back, when hands in the darkness remove his gag and try to feed him food. His teeth meets flesh at one point, when a servant dragon is foolish enough to try feeding the trapped Beast King without anyone holding Gavin’s head back by his hair or keeping his jaw from snapping down. He grins in the darkness when he tastes blood on his tongue, hears the cursing of the dragon that blows hot dragon-fire on the wound, blue and white in color.

It’s blinding to Gavin’s eyes, and he has to look away- just in time for someone to clout him along the temple.

“North!” the Dragon called Markus admonishes. “Stop that- you know we’re not supposed to hurt him-!”

“He _bit_ me!”

“We follow the King’s commands, regardless. If he says not to hurt the Beast King no matter what, then we _don’t hurt the Beast King, no matter what_.”

Gavin furrows his brows in thought, and peers in the darkness at the two Dragons keeping him hostage.

Why would the Ice King of Dragons tell them not to hurt him?

The Beast King scowls at the thought. It has to be some kind of trick, a scheme to get his guard down, get him to trade sides or take mercy on his captors.

Stubbornness rises in Gavin, and he lashes out at the two Dragons, still lingering in his cell, lightly bickering as they try to feed the captive king.

Gavin’s chained foot manages to snap out quick enough that he strikes Markus’ leg, the force enough for the dragon to stagger a bit where he stands, but the movement wasn’t _nearly_ strong enough to get him to fall.

The creature curses, soup and bread clattering to the dungeon floor, and Gavin looks on with a devilish smirk.

He can’t see their expressions all that well in the half-darkness, even when he’s in his humanoid form, but he can tell they’re pissed. North’s eyes even start to _glow_ , like the fire inside her could spring out of every pore at any second. Fire, steam, bouts of heat that would singe her enemies to dust in seconds.

Gavin just smirks.

She’s not allowed to hurt him.

The smug look is enough for her. The dragon’s eyes flash red, and her fist rises, something that looks like smoke or steam hissing from her mouth. A powerful reptile prepared to strike-

“North.”

The ice to her fire. A cool voice from the back. It chills Gavin to the bone instantly, and it’s enough for the fiery dragon to immediately stop, and turn in place to the one who’s interrupted Gavin’s dinner.

The Dragon King.

Markus nods once, an acknowledgement. “Your Majesty,” he says.

North does the same nod, though the movement stunted. “Your Majesty,” she echoes, the sound clipped.

“North, Markus,” the King murmurs. He crosses the threshold of the cell door, sparing hardly a glance to Gavin. Though the Beast King swears that as soon as NInes passes through the doorway, the room grows chillier.

The King looks pointedly to North. “I believe my instructions were..?”

The redhead looks on crossly, eyes narrowed, but she submits to the king’s pointed look. “..To not harm him,” she mutters, the words seemingly pulled from her mouth without her allowance.

“Hm.” The King looks her up and down again. “..And did you follow that order?” Like he’s speaking to a child. Gavin curls his lips up to show his fangs, but doesn’t make a sound.

North huffs out a breath of air through her nose, steam hissing out. “..No,” she bites.

The King blinks, pale eyes like two moons, catching and reflecting the light of the torches on the walls. For several seconds, the monarch simply lets the group sit in quiet contemplation as he holds the tension in the room, not so much as a dew drop disturbing the quiet that he holds in his very talons.

“You are dismissed,” the King finally allows, breaking the tension.

North nods tersely, looking horribly shame-faced, and scurries out of the room. Very much a scolded child, she utters a heartfelt, “I apologize, Your Majesty,” and leaves the dungeon before any kind of reply can be made, her steps hurried and quick going out the dungeon and up the steps down the long hall.

Gavin’s ears flick, catching only the faintest swish and click of the far-away door closing, which is when the Dragon turns to Markus, and speaks plainly. “I am told that he is difficult during meal-times.”

Markus nods once, stiff at attention under the watchful eye of his king. “Yes, Your Majesty. He bit North. It’s difficult to get him to eat more than a couple of bites..”

The King nods once, contemplative, then slowly turns his pale-moon gaze to the fellow king in the room. Gavin’s eyes narrow, constricting. His ears fold back; his tail bristles, and the fine hairs along his back and arms stand on end from the chill in that look.

For several long and aching seconds, the two monarchs simply stare each other down. Gavin pulls his lips back, looks like he’s about to snarl again, make some kind of insult. 

But then he stops when the Dragon King turns away, and addresses Markus. “Leave us.”

“Your Majesty?” Markus blinks, frowns. Turns his lips down and shifts. “I really don’t think you should-”

“Markus.” The King speaks low and level. “I’ll be fine. The king is in chains. There’s nothing he can do to hurt me.”

Markus gives the king another uncertain look, still not sold on the idea.

But the king levels him with a look, and narrows his eyes. “That is an _order_ , Markus.”

Gavin can tell from here that it’s enough for the man to take heed, so he nods his head once, and does a curt bow. He casts one look Gavin’s way, a warning almost, like there’s a chance Gavin might _dare_ to hurt the Dragon King while he’s gone.

The Ice King waits for Markus to leave, then moves only when the far-off door closes. He moves further into the room, unflinching when Gavin growls low in warning, still trying to maintain his threatening persona from where he kneels.

“Oh, hush,” the Ice King scolds. “You’re not frightening, anyone. There’s no one to show-off to, here.” The King nears the table where Gavin’s back-up tray of food is set-up, and looks on at it curiously. “This is good food- if you would eat it, you’d realize we’re not trying to harm you. In fact-” he gazes at the tray, and it’s hard to discern his expression in the darkness. “We wish the exact opposite, actually. It is not my desire for you to suffer while you are under my care here, Your Majesty.”

Even from where he kneels, Gavin _can_ see the smirk on the King’s face when he says that, and it causes his lips to curl up indignantly, showing his fangs.

The other King pays no heed to him, or his threats, and just takes the tray where it sits, bringing it over, in addition to a dirty stool set up by the table. He sits primly on the stool, back ramrod straight, poised even as he holds a grubby tray of food on his lap. “I’ll have you know- Kara’s soup is superb. I can’t recommend her enough. A shame you spilled it all across the floor.”

The King stirs the soup, his expression easy and plain, all while Gavin just glowers at him. He watches through sharp eyes as the dragon holds up a spoon. The Beast King can smell it even from here- the steaming soup holding noodles, cut vegetables and chicken in a thick broth. A warm dinner roll sits at the side, buttered, soft and round.

“Eat,” the Dragon King commands, leaving no room for argument as he holds the spoon up to the bound King’s mouth. “And when you’re done- we can negotiate.”

For a few moments, Gavin considers lashing out again, snapping out with his leg or his jaws, showing his teeth.

But he lets himself relax, though he growls slightly in warning, when the dragon holds up the spoonful of soup.

The King fixes him with a steady gaze. “ _Behave_ ,” he says, and brings the spoon forward.

The soup is thick, flavorful on Gavin’s tongue. It doesn’t taste like food someone in a dungeon would receive, so he’s grateful for it, anyway.

“There we go,” the Dragon murmurs, a bit of a smirk in his voice. “That’s not so terrible, is it?”

Gavin just scowls at him, but doesn’t make any attempt at driving the king away, holding his tongue in favor of having more food.

“It’s because we’re equals, is that it?” the Dragon King hums, looking at Gavin in consideration, while the Beast King just scowls, and chews through a bite of bread. “As Kings, it would be beneath you to be taken care of by ones who are under your stature?”

When Gavin makes no move, or gesture as to any kind of answer, the Dragon King just shrugs, “Or maybe you’re just a stubborn wolf.”

The rest of the meal goes on in silence between the two monarchs, Gavin eating every bit of food offered. When it’s done, he sits back, and sighs, content and fully sated.

The Dragon King doesn’t move from where he sits, and rather moves the tray away, placing it on the table nearby. “Now- have you decided to behave and negotiate, or are you going to need more time in the doghouse?”

Gavin glares, eyes narrowed, and speaks for the first time to the Dragon King.

“Maybe stop with all the fuckin’ dog puns and I might consider it.” 

The Dragon King scrunches up his nose just in the slightest, immediately displeased. “Profanity. How crass.”

“Yeah well fuck you-”

Nines stands, and turns his back to Gavin. “I’ll have you know that such cursing is not welcome in my court.” He straightens some of the dishes on the tray. “And if you are to join me, then-”

“ _Join you_?” Gavin snarls, and pulls at the chains holding him back, though the movement is futile. “Why would I ever-?!”

“You are my prisoner,” the Dragon says, turning in place and levelling the Beast King with a steady, pale gaze. “My scouts and generals were able to capture you successfully. I believe in games of chess, such an action as taking opponent’s king is what they refer to as _checkmate_.” The Dragon turns, holding his hands primly behind his back. “So now.. You’re mine.”

Gavin’s self-control snaps, and he lunges forward with a savage snarl, flickers of his body attempting to shift into his other form, his wolf nature drawn to the surface.

“You-!” he tugs hard enough on his chains that he knows they’ll leave marks. “Don’t own _shit_!”

The Dragon King sighs again, as if disappointed. “Ah- more profanity. How distasteful.”

“And you’ll get more than that if you keep me locked up in here!” Gavin shows his teeth. “You don’t know what you’ve unleashed by capturing me- my officers, my generals and my people will come get me! They’ll rip your castle down- no mercy-!”

The Dragon King hums, smirking. “I highly doubt that, Your Majesty. For you see.. I have Intel, Intel that tells me the Beasts you reign over are uncoordinated, unorganized. Fierce, surely, but nowhere near prepared to deal with my reinforced and well-trained army."

Gavin just scowls, and the Dragon King looks on frostily. "To us, you're nothing more than a pack of wild dogs, barking at a line of elite soldiers and knights. Little more than pests that get in our way. Crafty, sure, but not mobilized enough for an army. We know about your more.. Laissez-faire way, going through life as you do."

Called on his bluff, the Beast King can only scowl.

“You’ll join me in my court, Gavin. And you’ll behave, as you’re expected to. Perhaps then, you’ll see that you’re on the wrong side of this war.”

“We’re not on _any side_ !” he roars, and tries to lunge forward again. “My people have no trouble with the humans- just because we refuse to engage in _your fucking war-_!”

The room grows cold in a single breath, and by the time Gavin finishes yelling his piece, his breath condenses in front of his vision, and his lungs suddenly ache from the chilled air. He coughs, taken by surprise, and looks up in time to see the severe expression crossed over the Dragon’ King’s face.

The Ice King.

“ _You chose a side_ .. when you refused to join _ours_ ,” the Dragon growls, brittle. Shoulders tense, Gavin can almost hear his joints crack like the very ice he earned his title for. “Countless of my people have died, and so many less could have if you would _join our fight against the humans_ -”

“Well we’re _sure as shit not going to_ join you _now_! Beasts are loyal; they’d never join with you when they hear that I’ve been-”

“You know we were only able to capture you because an inside source betrayed you, right?”

Gavin goes still.Ears pinned back to his head, he looks up, tries to find any sign of deception in the Dragon King’s voice.

The man shows nothing, but there’s a cold sincerity.. An uncaring disinterest.

What reason would he have to not tell the truth?

“No,” Gavin says, and shakes his head, refusing. “No, there’s no way-” He scowls. “We’re _loyal_ , not like you Dragons. Unfeeling lizards-”

The air temperature drops again, and Gavin shivers, curling his limbs as close to his body as he can. “Would you _stop that_ -?!”

“My people.. Certainly feel a lot more than _yours_ do-” and the Beast King meets the cold eyes of the Dragon’s. “While your people continue to.. Live in the woods with hardly a care.. My Dragons grow hungrier and hungrier as the humans encroach on our territory. Yet you and your kind remain complacent, uncaring, un _feeling_ that we’re on the verge of extinction-”

“That’s not my problem,” Gavin growls, bitter. “If _you’re_ not able to protect your dragons, that doesn’t have anything to do with-”

“You don’t think the humans will move onto your kind next?!” The Dragon snarls, bits of ice and frost spitting from his lips. “Like they’ll look on you with kindness, open their arms and let you in? After all of my Dragons are dead and gone? Nothing more than pelts and leather for the humans to wear?!”

The Beast King glowers, but he doesn’t shift his gaze away, unwilling to back down. “We have had no trouble with the humans- there’s no reason for us to take arms against-”

“You fool! There is _every reason to_ -!”

But then the King stops, considerate, and then draws himself up, schooling his expression and reigning himself back in. “It’s no matter. The tide of the war will change, now that I have you. And with your capture, the ability to control your army-”

Gavin just glares, and says nothing.

“You will see what we Dragons are like, Beast King,” says the Ice KiIf ng, turning in place, and starting back towards the door of Gavin’s cell. “I’ll send my aides to retrieve you when it is time. Until then- behave yourself. Set an example, and you’ll do well. My people will bring no harm to you.”

And with that, the door to Gavin’s cell closes.

\--

It’s not long when the door opens again, just as the Dragon King said it would, and in steps a red-headed dragon, tall, freckly.

“Your Majesty,” he says, and Gavin takes only the slightest pleasure that his rank is respected, even as a captive to a bunch of cold-hearted reptiles. “My name is Jeremiah. I’m here to bring you to the King.” He holds up a handful of clothes, and it’s hard to tell in the light, but Gavin can see the bright and lavish colors even through the darkness. Yello, orange and greens, blue-

“Yeah, I’m not wearing that.” He glowers, shifts in place where he leans back against the cold dungeon wall.The captured king sneers, kicking his legs out, like he’s the one in control. “Bring me good clothes, like the ones I’m wearing, now.”

The Dragon shakes his head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. If you’re going to be in Our Majesty’s court, you have to wear the appropriate attire, especially now that you’re one of us, now.”

Gavin snarls, pulls at his chains. “I am _not_ one of you-”

“Regardless,” young Jeremiah clears his throat. “These are the king’s orders.”

“Well fuck all to your king’s orders-” Gavin spits, looks to the side. “I’m not going, and I won’t wear that.”

Jeremiah doesn’t look bothered whatsoever, merely raises both of his eyebrows in the slightest gesture.

“As you wish.”

\--

“ _Fucking dragons_!” Gavin bellows as he’s pulled in to the throne room once again.

“Silence, the Court will not stand for such profanity in the presence of the King,” Jeremiah says with a smile on his face.

Gavin goes stumbling along, led by the chains binding him, but it’s not just ones around his wrists, anymore. No, now there’s a collar tied around his neck, hard black leather with an attached leash.

He isn’t brought in through the main door, as he was before, but instead from a door off to the side. And even though he goes stumbling in, wearing just his white shirt, he stands proudly, refusing to show any shame.

The Ice King gives him a cursory glance when Gavin enters.

  
  
  


“Ah, Your Majesty, King Gavin,” Nines hums from the throne, and Gavin looks up in time to see that damn smirk going up the King’s face. The Dragon hums, looking the other monarch up and down in consideration. “The collar certainly suits you- befitting for an animal that refuses to heed his master.”

Gavin scowls, discontent stirring in his gut, causing his lips to curl up in the beginnings of a snarl.

The Dragon King’s smirk falls, and he wags a finger at him, like Gavin is no more than a misbehaving dog, or a scolded child. “Ah, ah, ah. None of that. You need to behave if you want to stay here with the rest of us.”

Gavin opens his mouth to snarl something probably unbecoming of royalty, but he’s interrupted when someone calls out, “Your Majesty! The Prince! He was just sighted coming in over the Ridgeback Belt!”

All attention shifts over to the King, and Gavin watches through narrowed eyes the flickers of emotion that play over the other King’s eyes.

The Dragon King glances over to Gavin, gaze considerate. It’s minute, then, small shiftings of his expression like a mask coming down over his face. Looking somber, he nods. “Very good.” He turns his head, straightens a bit in his throne, and grips the arm rests, the silver glinting and cold.

Gavin frowns. The Prince…

From outside the thick palace walls, forged of stone and solidified with ice- Gavin’s sharp wolf ears can hear it.

A powerful _whoosh_ , the force of air being pushed and shaped-

The beating of wings.

A chill goes down Gavin’s spine, and instinctively, his ears fold back against his head. The hairs along his tail, his spine, bristle on end.

“The doors,” the Ice King says, voice clear and crisp. Though he doesn’t expand on the two simple words, there’s a clear command in his tone.

A couple of Dragons scurry over to a pair of huge double doors off to the side of the throne room, nearly hidden behind huge drapes, eager to serve, all attention diverted away from the captive Beast King

The doors open surprisingly easily as they glide along the cold and polished floors. Gavin braces himself against a gust of wind that pushes at him, but he shakes off the cold so he can watch as he _feels_ more than he _sees_ the Prince make his landing on the balcony- just cut off from his vision.

The first part of the Prince that emerges through the double doors is his head, sleek and surely twice the size of all of Gavin’s body. A long and snow-white snout, leading to a serpentine neck. A shining blue horn sits upon the great beast’s head, much like the King’s, bright as a summer sky.

The Prince’s body fills the doorway, massive shoulders shifting easily through, revealing more of his great body. With a coloration of mostly white and bits of gray, the Beast King thinks the Prince looks almost like a storm cloud, bits of bright blue and silver in the form of spikes that go down the Prince’s back. They shift and gleam, sharp as any knife or fang or claw. And speaking of, the _talons_ of the Dragon Prince click on the ground, longer than Gavin’s own palm.

Gavin nearly startles when Jeremiah leans in (he’d nearly forgotten the other Dragon was even _there_ ) and whispers conspiratorily, “You think _he’s_ impressive? The King is even _bigger_.”

The Beast King exchanges a horrified look with him, disbelieving. “Bigger?” he whispers, harsh, “The Prince is already fucking _huge_ -”

The rest of the Prince slinks in, and Gavin is able to see the webbed, folded wings pressed to the Dragon’s back, more flickering colors of white and gray. Bits of what looks like frost, snow and ice cling to the Prince’s scales, like they’re a part of him more than anything.

Gavin watches as the entirety of the Prince enters the throne room, his long and heavy tail just managing to snake past the doors before they’re close with a quiet echo.

The length of the Prince, from nose to tail tip, if stretched out.. He’s easily the size of two houses, maybe three. If he were to stretch out all the way, the Prince would fill the throne room. Like stuffing a large dog in a box.

No wonder the doors here are so big.

Something deep and despairing fills the Beast King’s chest at the thought. Resentment sitting and bubbling and boiling.

There isn’t a single chance his people would _ever_ be able to stand up against such monsters.

A deep rumbling that shakes the whole room, powerful thunder that warbles from the Prince’s throat, and Gavin looks up in surprise to see a pair of brown, piercing eyes staring him down from over a story above his head.

A scent hit’s the Beast King’s nose, and on instinct, he faintly parts his mouth. Gavin stares, and can’t help but flare his nostrils as he takes in the scent of the beast above him, familiarizing himself with it.

Scenting what’s familiar.

Gavin’s brows furrow, and he takes a deeper inhale, hoping it’s somewhat subtle.

He knows that scent. It’s faint. But it clings to the dragon staring him down.

The great Dragon Prince seems to think the same, as well, because a massive tongue slips out in just the blink of an eye- forked and dark blue. Inverted eyelids blink, and he catches Gavin’s eyes. Something passes between the two of them, knowing.

The Dragon Prince snorts, and he turns away, dismissing Gavin like he were nothing but the dirt beneath his talons.

Gavin sneers, but doesn’t say anything.

At least not yet.

The Dragon Prince turns to the King, then in a rush of movement, his wings snap out, stretching wide and far. He bends down low, lifting one leg and curling it towards himself, the movement graceful and controlled, even in such a confined space. He makes a low and rumbling sound-

Then in a mere couple of blinks, the Dragon’s form melts away, shimmers of light and body shifting until all that stands before Gavin is a man, one who looks deceptively identical to the very King who visited him in the dungeon.

“Prince Connor.” the Ice King says, tone as cold as his title. He remains sitting at his throne. “You have been absent for nearly a fortnight.”

“I have,” the other answers, neither denying nor excusing his apparent unwarned absence. “I did not presume that you would miss me.” Dark brown eyes, almost black, slide in Gavin’s direction. “Besides. It seems that you had plenty to entertain you while I was gone, anyway.”

Gavin doesn’t hold back the growl that starts low in his throat, crawling up into a snarl with his lips curled.

Neither of the Dragon royals pay attention to the one standing nearby, eyes focused primarily to each other.

The Dragon King gestures to Gavin with a light movement of his hand. “This is Sir Gavin Reed, King of the Beasts.” 

_That’s_ enough to catch the Prince’s attention. His head turns to Gavin, eyes wide. “Truly?” he asks, looking at the other monarch with a new appreciation, a new wariness. Something like consideration shines in his eyes, and he looks away, back to the Dragon King. “And what do you intend to do with your recent.. acquisition?” 

“I’m not a _fucking_ acquisition!” Gavin snarls, lunging forward, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You fucking dragons! I’m not a damn chest of gold for you to horde for yourself- I’m a _King_ , and you can’t treat me like this! I’ll reign fucking fire down on all of you, I swear to-”

“Interesting choice of words _Your Majesty_ ,” the Ice Dragon cuts, and the room temperature immediately plummets. Eyes cold, the Dragon King doesn’t break his gaze from Gavin, unflinching. He breathes out low, and Gavin _feels_ more than he _sees_ the other Dragons in the room shifting away. They either turn their bodies slightly off so they aren’t facing the King directly, or they simply look away, like that might help them avoid the depth of their monarch’s voice.

“An acquisition, you say,” the Dragon echoes, tone light and musing, as if barely even taken by the idea. “No doubt a meager reference to the stories of dragons hoarding gold, no more truth than stories at night told to appease little children.”

The King’s eyes could be steel, or shards of ice. He tilts his chin up, and gestures with a crooked finger. “Jeremiah. Bring him here.”

Gavin immediately tries to resist, digging his heels into the ground, snarling and showing his teeth. He snaps at Jeremiah, and does what he can to push back- but the Dragon at his back is too strong, and another soon joins him, managing to force Gavin forward, right up to the throne of the Dragon King himself.

Once he’s within reach, Gavin is pulled right down across the monarch’s lap with one forceful tug of the leash. He falls embarrassingly close, one leg resting over the King’s thigh, the bulk of him leaning against the intimidating Dragon.

One long and pale hand grabs at Gavin’s leash, keeping him still, and it hits Gavin just how strong these Dragons are, especially the King. Even with his wriggling and snarling and trying to pull away, there’s nothing he can do to pull himself from the Dragon King’s grip.

And nothing becomes more apparent to that thought than when the Dragon King slips his right palm up to cup Gavin’s throat, baring it as he tilts the Beast King’s head up.

Defensive, Gavin shows his teeth in warning while his ears lay flat, but the Dragon either pays no heed to it, or just doesn’t care.

Gavin expects the king to look at him with disgust, or rage, or try to instill some kind of fear-

But what he doesn’t expect.. Is the...almost _reverent_ way the King seems to regard him, swiftly followed by something low and hungry and possessive.

The hand to his throat is strong, and firm, but not forceful, and Gavin hears the King take a soft little inhale, tasting the Beast King’s scent.

“You are not a trophy. Nor a simple _acquisition_ , as you claim, like children fighting over a shared toy. Oh no.” Gavin grits his teeth, heart pounding, taken aback by the gentle tone in the Dragon’s voice. “You are not my prisoner, though you are not here from your own will, so you are not a guest. But in all your ferocity, and snappish attitude, you are simply..” The King inhales again. “.. _Mine_.”

Gavin’s breath nearly stops, his throat choking up, eyes going wide. He remains perfectly still, and manages to keep himself from shaking. Or snapping or biting.

A graze that must surely be teeth drags over his neck. A temptation. An offer. 

One that pulls back.

Gavin stares, and finds his eyes drawn to a ring of blue at the King’s temple. An outline of a circle, cut into three parts. Currently blue. Relaxed. At ease.

“Take him to the East Wing,” the King says. “Bring him some decent food, a change of clothes. He must remain collared, for now. Until we can trust him. Keep doors at the entrance, all hours of the day and night.”

Gavin blinks, furrows his brows in confusion. He’s not going back to the dungeon? He looks back to the King, who places a possessive hand at the Beast King’s neck, and squeezes, the touch reassuring, and firm. “I will return later, to check on you,” he says. “For now, I will entrust you to Jeremiah’s care.”

From where he sits, the King makes no effort to stand up, even as Jeremiah starts to inch toward him, and pull on his chains.

“But why?” he asks, and lets himself scramble to his feet as the King fixes him with a pointed stare. “The dungeon, being taken..?”

It feels like a trap.

They _want_ him to give incriminating information.

Suspicion makes him sour, distrusting. But the Dragon stares at him, levelled.

“Situations have changed, King Gavin. I cannot let you leave. Yet I find myself in a position where I need you on my side, even in circumstances such as these, lest I lose my control over the Beast’s..” He dips his head, and steeples his hands together. “I shall explain more, when I come to dine with you tonight. I promise- I shall be as transparent with you as I can.”

And with that, the King raises his hand, and makes a clear gesture of dismissal. He says no words, but it’s enough for Jeremiah to bring Gavin to his feet, and lead him away, back to another, totally different part of the castle. One that would be nowhere _near_ the dungeon.

No words are passed between the king and the one called Jeremiah, but Gavin couldn’t bring up any questions or pressed demands even if he wanted to. No. Right now, he’s too busy rolling over the Dragon King’s words in his head, and awing at something he never would have expected.

The Dragon King, feared Ice Ruler of the Dragon Realm..

His hands.. They were warm.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my partner in starting this story, Omochi, who made a BEAUTIFUL art piece that got this story off the ground. An inspiring artist, please go check out their work! You can find it here! here
> 
> Omochi, thank you so much for your patience with me in tackling this story- your work is truly inspiring and I'm so happy in working with you on this wonderful piece!


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